


The effects of Witcher potions on a very human bard

by Callmepapi



Series: *-Jaskier-whump-week-* [2]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Blindness, Drooling, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier Whump Week (The Witcher), Jaskier | Dandelion Whump, M/M, Potions, Seizures, Vomiting, Witcher Potions (The Witcher)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:29:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25532887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Callmepapi/pseuds/Callmepapi
Summary: Part 2 of the Jaskier whump week - revenge.Jaskier wasn’t sure where he had gone wrong. Was it when he drank the ale that a stranger had given him or was it when the group of bandits followed him to his room.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: *-Jaskier-whump-week-* [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1848163
Comments: 12
Kudos: 260
Collections: Jaskier Whump Week





	The effects of Witcher potions on a very human bard

**Author's Note:**

> Here we go day two, revenge. Hope you cool kidz enjoy lol, leave a comment down below cause it always makes my day ; )

Jaskier wasn’t sure where he had gone wrong. Was it when he drank the ale that a  _ stranger _ had given him, and he must admit it did taste slightly strange but it wasn’t as if they were at a five star tavern with the best ales on the continent, or was it when the group of bandits followed him to his room, catching him when the poisoned ale finally got to his system and he swooned like a maiden from one of his ballads.

Waking up was a whole different story of regret. The pounding headache and nausea helped to remind him of his entire situation. Thankfully he had been blindfolded, so no bright lights were going to hurt his eyes any more so. 

The sound of clinking came from somewhere in the room and Jaskier knew he wasn’t alone. He tugged at his wrists but found them to be tied with rope, as well as his ankles.

“Stop squirmin’!” A voice shouted at him. It obviously belonged to a male, thick and rough and decidedly not very well spoken.

“Who are you? What do you want?,” he shouted. No reply, just the continued clinking sound which Jaskier suddenly realised sounded like the potions in his pack that he kept for Geralt, “Oh-ho ho ho, when Geralt finds me, you thieves will have  _ hell _ to pay! You’ll be begging for your lives!-”

“ _ We _ were sent by a lord. Paid us well. Had some revenge against that Witcher of yours. Done im’ dirty on a job” Jaskier smacked his lips shut. So this was their plan, kidnap the bard, probably for some kind of ransom. What kind of job would Geralt do bad on.

The clinking continued for a few more seconds until it stopped, the only sound being the liquid inside a vial being shaken.

“Think this is it?” One of the voices asked.

“Fuck if I know. Test it on im’?” Jaskier shuddered, unknowing of what they planned thanks to the stupid blindfold. Maybe having a worse headache would be worth it to see his inevitable fate.

“I- is that a potion? They’re all- they’re all duds! I swear it! I swear on my cat's grave!… oh bollocks, I don’t even have a cat,” he mumbled. He could hear heavy footsteps approach him and rough hands grip his jaw. Jaskier closed his lips in a vain attempt to keep his mouth shut but the hands simply squeezed his cheeks and his lips pooped open.

“If they’re all duds, then you wouldn’t mind tryin’ em’,” His captor said as he poured the potion into jaskier’s mouth. 

It was a foreign feeling, like if someone poured boiling water in his mouth, but minus the pain. It tasted like chocolate that someone had extremely overcooked and was burnt until charred and black. Jaskier spluttered, coughing as the potion went down. It made his eyes water and he sniffed as his nose felt choked.

Suddenly the sound of a door slamming open, and various shouts echoed in the room. Jaskier could hear it , though, he noted that his head was suddenly very fuzzy, like blackout drunk fuzzy. The man squeezing jaskier’s face let go, leaving his head to slump against his chest. The distant screams continued until there were hands on jaskier’s shoulders and he realised that the noise had stopped, rather suddenly.

“Jaskier, shit!” The voice, which he was pretty certain was Geralt, shouted. The hands left his shoulder to undo the ropes at his wrists and ankles, probably using a knife to slice them through. Jaskier would have fallen to the ground had it not been for Geralt’s quick reflexes holding him up.

“Jaskier, what’s wrong?” The blindfold was removed and Jaskier squinted at Geralt then let a dopey smile fill his face when he realised that, yes, this truly was his saviour,  _ Geralt _ .

“Mmm, wanted… revenge?” He mumbled, “…potion…”Jaskier’s eyes flicked to the floor where a small glass vial lay. He feebly pointed towards it but he had barely any control over his limbs and his arm fell back to his side. Luckily, Geralt figured it out and reached over with one hand to grab the vial, sniffed it, then looked at Jaskier with wide eyes, mouth open in shock.

“Fuck.”  _ Fuck? _ That probably wasn’t good, Jaskier thought. Gently, Geralt wrapped jaskier’s arm over his shoulder and pulled him up. They managed to walk out of, seemingly, an old shed in an abandoned farm. The light made Jaskier squint and he tried to shield his face but his arm wouldn’t cooperate, he mumbled but Geralt ignored it, hefting him up and further out.

Suddenly, jaskier’s stomach seemed to flip and decide that only  _ now _ the potion didn’t agree. His knees gave out and he forced Geralt to drop him, which he did - the sudden loss of strength too much for the Witcher. Kneeling on the ground, arms and knees digging into the course dirt, Jaskier began throwing up some sort of acidic, black liquid that sizzled when it splashed onto the earth.

Tears flooded jaskier’s eyes as Geralt rubbed his back in a sore attempt at soothing him. Jaskier, still retching this  _ stuff _ , felt his arms give out and thankfully Geralt caught him, arm wrapped around his chest, before he could land face first in the liquid. When the retching died down to dry gags, the bard turned to look at the blurry Witcher.

“…Ger… wha’s hap’n,” he mumbled. Geralt only stared at him, eyes creased in concern. He stood up, hefting the bard up with him.

“Come on, we have to find a mage, now.” He grumbled. Jaskier sighed, letting himself be moved forward. Until he couldn’t  _ see. _ As sudden as a blink everything had turned black. He tried to wave his hands at his face but he couldn’t even move them an inch from his side. He started to panic, as much as he could in his dazed state, and he felt his breathing pick up.

“Mm, ger’l… can- can’t see. Ge’…” he couldn’t speak. He couldn’t  _ fucking  _ speak! Maybe this was it, maybe today would truly be his last. Fuck. He didn’t want to go. He didn’t want to leave yet. 

“Fuck, jaskier.” There were fingers on his face, around his eyes. Thumbs wiping at his brows. He knew he couldn’t control his face, could feel drool fall from his open mouth. Couldn’t help but let tears fall from his blinded eyes. He wanted to be in control. He wanted to let Geralt know it would be okay.

Suddenly a blast of cold air ruffled jaskier’s fringe and a new set of lighter steps came toward them. A familiar voice ringing out.

“Geralt. Dying bard.” Yennefer greeted them. Jaskier tried to speak but could only give a weird moan.

“Yennefer, please…” Geralt asked, pleaded. Jaskier heard her sigh then step forward. Soft hands cupped his cheeks, lifted his eyelids, opened his mouth. A cold itch began in his nose and ears and seemed to spread downwards.

“He drank a potion. One of yours?” Geralt grumbled, “He doesn’t have long. His ears are bleeding, which means next is seizures then it’s death. That’s usually how it goes.” Jaskier’s breathing picked up as tears fell from his eyes. He couldn’t even move his eyebrows, nothing to show his inner panic. Geralt readjusted him, lifting him slightly to get a better grip on the dying bard.

“Please yen. You have to hel-”

“I know, fool. That’s why I’m here. I felt some sort of tension, and I knew it’d be you, and it’s easy to guess that your bard is the one that would be hurt. Idiot seems to get himself into all sorts of trouble. Well? Follow me. I’ll take him to my room.” The footsteps abated and Jaskier felt himself be moved forward.

A sudden nauseous feeling in his stomach and his ears popping uncomfortably let him know that he had just walked through a portal. The room he had landed in smelled of old wood and herbs, but the scent was heavily diluted with his own blood thanks to the bleeding nose. He was shuffled forward and gently placed on a bed. He felt hands lifting his legs up to rest on the mattress and pillows being propped up behind his head.

He could feel some sort of presence beside him and Yennefer’s voice spoke up, “Hmm, black eyes. Black veins. They couldn’t have picked any other potion?” Geralt grumbled from jaskier’s other side. He could still feel the cold trail of blood from his ears and nose and the uncomfortable sensation of drool dripping down his jaw. The bed shifted which meant that Geralt had got up and two sets of footsteps moved to the corner of the room.

"you can fix it, right?" geralt asked. His gruff voice suddenly overcome with what jaskier could only assume was concern. 

“Do you doubt my capabilities?” She said. Jaskier could almost see her smirk.

The bard felt his hand twitch slightly, nothing much. Then his leg kicked out and before he knew it, he was shouting for Geralt through gritted teeth as his entire body started shaking. Geralt rushed to his side, trying his best to comfort him without touching him. Veins popped out of jaskier’s neck as his face turned red and black foam appeared in his mouth, dribbling down his face.

“Fuck.” Yennefer turned, grabbing a pot of ink and a white peony. She rushed to the bard's side, climbing onto the bed and straddling his thighs. She ripped open his shirt, and had Jaskier not been seizing, he would have definitely had something to say about this position. Using the ink, yennefer drew runes on jaskier’s chest as neat as she could with all the shaking he was doing. As jaskier’s face began turning purple, lips turning a foul shade of blue, yennefer brought the peony up, chanting, and as her chant ended, she burned the peony to cinders.

The shaking stopped. Suddenly the room was filled with a tense anticipation as they waited for the bard to wake up. He looked dead; his chest unmoving and Geralt couldn’t hear a pulse, be it faint or non existent.

“Yen… Yen he’s not breath-” Jaskier took a great gasp of air as he sat up. He blinked furiously as he waved his hands in front of his face, letting out a relieved laugh. His throat bobbed as if he was about to cry and he looked up at the two.

Geralt moved first, hugging Jaskier tight, one hand against the back of his head and the other around his back. Jaskier looked at yen, her cold demeanour momentarily softened.

“Thank you, yen,” he croaked. She nodded at him, and Jaskier could have sworn there were unshed tears in her eyes, before turning to clean up the mess they had made. Geralt pulled back from the hug, looking at Jaskier with red rimmed eyes.

“Jaskier- I’m so sorry. Fuck. The fucking lord wanted revenge on  _ me _ , why’d he have to hurt you.” Jaskier brought an arm up to comfort the Witcher.

“It’s ok. I’m fine now.” He brushed a strand of hair behind Geralt’s ear.

“I know. I won’t let anything happen to you again.”


End file.
